Those Old Stories

While unpacking, we found a spoon belonging to the man's grandfather. NAAFI was inscribed on it. I had no idea what it meant. I had to google it. But the man's mom knew. "Supplier to the British armed forces. The spoon was from the war." she said.

The generation of our grandparents lived through a world that understood war. Many lived through 2 World Wars and for many Asians, WWII broke their hearts.

Over the weekend, the man's grand-aunt regaled us with her stories when she was put on a ship to India to escape the atrocities of war in the Straits Settlements. I thought of my grandfather who, newly married, thinking to escape the tensions of the Sino-Jap war, only to run smack into another in Singapore. He put aside his pride and worked as a translator to put more than sweet potatos and water on the dinner table. My grandmother nearly went out of her mind living in fear of the capricious unknown. Then there was my godmom's mother who ran away from 2 continents, 4 countries to escape WWII, but still had to suffer through it when she got to Singapore. She emerged unscathed, moved to Vancouver and lived to a ripe old age of 87.

When I bring lunch to the elderly on my roster, they tell me war stories. The slightly senile ones repeat their tales of gutwrenching pain. The feisty ones break down their experiences into chapters and enthrall me with a different one each week.

They lived in a different era, in a world I will never quite understand. They shared experiences and feelings I hope I will never have to feel.

These stories shaped my perspectives when I was a History student. Now, they help to shape my life experiences. I find a common thread across these stories. At least for the ones who survived through the war. The then anger, fear, dejection and poverty have given way to today's occasional stoicism, optimism and curiosity about the world at large. Some maintain a wary misgiving for all Japanese products whereas some wholeheartedly embrace the quality of Made-in-Japan electronic items.

The man's grand-aunt didn't miss an opportunity to take a dig at us. Very shrewdly, over 2 dinners, she pointedly reminded us separately thrice, "The year of the Pig is a good year to get married. Get married!"
While strolling around Queen Elizabeth Park one time, my godmom's mother advocated, "Buy yellow gold. Buy gold bars. Buy the strongest international currency. Keep a what-do-they-call-it-now, a Swiss bank account."
While listening to the band play at The Oriental, my godmom advised, "Take your vitamins, marry well, take all his money, and oh, be nice."

My grandmother whispered, "Always keep 25% of the household expenses for yourself. Put it under 'miscellaneous items or repairs'. Then make him breakfast and do his laundry."
My grandfather always insisted, "Earn your own money and guard it like a hawk. Grow your money wisely. Don't borrow money and don't lend it to anybody either. Don't keep asking your man for money."

Wryly, I wonder what stories I will have to tell my non-existent grandchildren.